The Letters
by ehcanadian
Summary: ‘Kate, The year is 2012, believe it or not. Here’s a piece of paper with my appointments for the day written down for proof. I don’t understand… This can’t be happening. How are you still back on the Island? We were rescued almost a year ago. –Jack.’ AU.
1. Post It's and Mailboxes

_A/N: Jack finds a bundle of letters Kate wrote to him many years ago, and remembers how they got to him. It's definitely a weird story, but stick with it, and in no time, I'll have you saying "What the hell is she on?"_

Real life.  
_Letters._

Get it?

**Disclaimer: **Lost isn't mine, the Lake House isn't mine. But to write this story, I needed the characters, and to think of a plot line, I needed to kind of halfway borrow the Lake House's plot line.

The Letters

**September 22nd, 2012**

Jack had just gotten home from work, still in hi, and he pressed the 'play' button on his answering machine. A couple messages containing numbers he already knew blasted across the speaker, and then the machine turned over a new voice.

"Hey, Jack, guess who this is." A small forced laugh from a fragile voice. "Pick up your mail, would you? Look for my letter…" A click, then a mechanical voice repeating what time of the day it had been left. It wasn't possible. How could it be that the message had been left six years ago? He – they – had still been on the Island back then. She had still been alive back then.

How it was even in the realm of thinkable, he didn't know. He flipped through the other messages, replayed them again. Same date as today. The twenty-second of September, 2012. But hers was left on the twenty-second of September, 2006.

Doing as she asked him, he went to go retrieve his mail. Shifting through all the other letters, his eyes quickly found her large loopy writing, his namewritten across the front of it in her familiar writing. But the return address stumped him. It read, 'Kate Austen, Cave Town, The Island In The Middle of Nowhere.' The envelope was tired and worn with time, it's edges already starting to turn a shade of cappuccino brown.

Opening it slowly, he unfolded the letter, and his eyes quickly scanned the page, looking for a date.

_September 22nd, 2006._ He read it over and over again, not able to comprehend it the first few times. His chocolate brown eyes shifted over the to the first line of writing.

_Dear Jack,_

_Well, it's been two years since we've been on this Island. Two long, dreadful years, on this very day. I don't know how I knew the date today, but it was just a feeling in my gut. Locke had lost track of the time long before this, so who knows, it could be the fifteenth of June instead of the twenty-second of September. I suppose you'll just have to live with it._

_I guess this is more a time capsule then anything else. I doubt it'll ever get delivered since we have no postman, plus Sawyer takes everything worth mentioning from the tents anyway. If he finds this, he'll probably just laugh, rip it up, and throw it into the fire, waiting until you come along, so he can say "Nice letter, doc. Too bad the fire got to it before you did." And wink at you._

_Maybe someday we'll get rescued, and finally the postman could deliver this to you. _

_Or, maybe in a couple years, when we've grown older, I'll show them to you myself. Whatever time brings us to. I know for a fact that you're mad at me right now. Just a few minutes ago, you came in here, mad as anything, and started screaming at me. I have no idea what for, actually, I was so shocked that I couldn't hear anything. You know how sometimes, time seems to stand still? This was definitely one of those. Something about me trekking off into the woods again, with only a knife as protection. I have a tendency to forget the gun, but you never seem to understand that explanation. Maybe since I remember everything else, you figured I'd remember the gun. One of my bad habits, forgetting what you tell me. I know it sounds stupid, but it seems like every time you talk to me, I try to remember what you say, and it ends up that I try to remember so hard that I forget what I was trying to remember in the first place._

_I know, you're probably shaking your head, laughing, thinking 'what the hell is she talking about?' but it at least makes sense to me, and that's what matters since you'll never be getting these letters anyway. Probably. Hopefully. I mean… It'd be embarrassing, not to mention a myriad of other things._

_Hurley's now "knocking" at my tent flap, asking if everything is okay, so I'd better end this before he gets suspicious. I suppose I'll put this in the Hatch mailbox. No one ever checks there anyway… _

_Yours,  
Kate_

Jack didn't know how to react. How did she know his phone number? He left the letter sitting on the counter, and went to go take a shower. When he came back out, the letter was still there, still with the same date. How could he be six years in the future, and get a thing like this? How did the whole phone message thing work out?

He felt stupid for thinking and feeling it, but he had a sense of yearning to write back. But he shook off the feeling, and went to bed.

The next day, the letter was still there. At breakfast, Jack scrawled a quick note on a post-it…

_This has to be some mind game, right? Whoever's writing these letters, please stop. It's an upsetting subject for me to think about.  
-Dr. Jack Shephard, September 22nd, 2012._

… And slammed it in his mailbox outside, along with a bunch of other mail. Setting the red marker up, he went to work.

When he came back that night, he found another letter.

_Dear Jack,_

_The weirdest thing happened to me today… I found this bright yellow post-it in the mailbox, with the words 'This has to be some mind game, right? Whoever's writing these letters, please stop. It's an upsetting subject for me to think about. - Dr. Jack Shephard, September 22nd, 2012.' _

_Did you find my letter? Did you read it? What's up with the date? It's not 2012, it's still 2006. I can't believe you read it, then passed by me today without a word! How dare you! Why the hell is the Island an upsetting subject for you to think about? You said to me just yesterday that this place was becoming more your home then the real world ever had been!_

_Stop reading my letters, and stop freaking me out with the whole date thing, okay?_

_Kate_

Jack couldn't believe his eyes. He quickly wrote another note down on a post-it.

_Kate, _

_The year is 2012, believe it or not. Here's a piece of paper with my appointments for the day written down. I don't understand… This can't be happening. How are you still back on the Island? We were rescued almost a year ago, Kate. _

_Jack_

_Boston General Hospital  
__**Appointments for M.D. Jack Shephard – September 23rd, 2012.**_

_**Surgery – 06:15 am **– Denny Tolk, for a spinal plate replacement. Interns: Aurelia Lily and Luke Mattenson  
**Follow-up – 11:30am **- Denny Tolk, see how he's faring.  
__**- Lunch – 12:30 – 13:30 –  
Surgery – 14:45 **– Deb Gilmore, for a spine needed to be straightened. Interns: Aurelia Lily and James Druff  
**Follow-Up – 18:30 – **Deb Gilmore, see how she's faring.  
**On-Call for the rest of the night.**_

_See? I'm not lying, it's not a joke.  
_

Running downstairs, he quickly shoved the post-it into his apartment mailbox, and waited for the response.

A shuffle of mail could be heard a while later, and Jack checked it.

On the same piece of paper, she had written:

_No fucking way._

_

* * *

A/N: It should be an interesting story. And this one, unlike others, I shall keep on updating, regardless. This has become my number one priority right now. Please, read and review, even if it's one word... say... "Crayola." Or name off what you think's wrong with the story. Or name off what you like about the story. Whatever. A letter of the alphabet, even. I don't care. Just something telling me you read it._

_I think next chapeter might be all letters... I don't know yet. Or I could switch around to Kate's POV, and show her reaction to this... Depends._


	2. Talent Shows

_A/N: Wow... I am totally stumped at all the reviews this thing got. Well, I did what you all asked me to, and updated. :) And yes, this is based on The Lake House. I saw it, and I was like "Wouldn't it be really rad if this could apply to Lost?" And then the idea formed in my eyes,_

**Disclaimer:** If I owned anything evenremotely important, I wouldn't be writing this, I'd be taking a bath in a bathtub full of money. I guess it's good to want, 'eh?

The Letters

_Yes, I suppose that's a rather good way to put it.  
__-Jack_

Kate laughed at his sincerity then shook her head. This wasn't true. It had to be a dream or someone with a horrible sense of humor. In fact, the whole situation reeked of Sawyer.

_How do I know this isn't some mind game? You could be playing this enormous joke on me, and then, you'll show yourself, and be like "How naïve are you?". You wrote down the date on that appointment list, and everything was handwritten, except the heading. I mean… This isn't possible.  
__-Kate_

She quickly stuck the letter into the mailbox, and tapped her foot waiting for the response. A couple seconds afterwards, she heard the paper return. Sticking her hand in, she felt around for the paper, her fingers finding it and pulling it out.

_If my mind serves my correctly, today Charlie wanted to start a talent show thing. He went up to me, asking if he could. _

Kate looked up to see Charlie enter, clad with his guitar, looking around for something.

"Can I help you, Charlie?" She asked, interested to see what this was all about.

"Yeah, 'm looking for Jack. You happen to know where he is?" Charlie replied.

"Oh yeah, he's in the back, pressing the button." Kate nodded back in the direction, and went back to reading the letter.

_Of course, I said no, not with all the tension around. It happened later that night anyway, and while I hate to admit it, I think I had a pretty good time. Sawyer brought out the last of the alcohol, and we all partied ourselves a great time. See if I'm true or not.  
__-Jack_

"Charlie, no! Are you insane to even suggest an idea like that! There's way too much tension here to have some stupid party!" An argument could be heard breaking out in the next room over.

"It's the perfect tension reliever!" Charlie bellowed back, "It's what we all need!"

"NO! Now get out of here."

Charlie came out the room, his face red as a sunburn, and asked loudly, "Kate, why don't you come on down the beach later for a talent show? It'll be **FUN.**" He emphasized on the word 'fun' quite a lot, and then left.

She could heard a snorted laugh from the computer room.

_Yeah… still… Maybe you could've seen that coming. Charlie'll do basically anything to get a good laugh. This is bullshit. Don't write me anymore, whoever you are.  
__-Kate_

She put the letter in the mailbox, and walked away.

A day later, she returned, seeing if the mystery man had anything else to say.

He didn't. The mailbox was empty, void of any letters.

She sighed, knowing what she was getting herself into, and wrote something on a scrap piece of paper. She felt stupid, writing it, but maybe this wasn't all a joke. Maybe it was really six years into the future where ever he was writing from.

_Okay, fine, you got me. Write me.  
__-Kate_

Kate left, and later returned to see if anything had popped up yet. She went to the mailbox to look, and discovered something else there. A notebook of blank pages, a box of pens, and some envelopes.

_As you wish. But promise me two things. First, you'll write me back. Second, this really isn't some joke that some really weird man with a sick sense of humor is playing.  
__-Jack_

Kate laughed out aloud, and wrote down her response.

_Both things promised. But can I get the same promises out of you?  
__-Kate_

A single word was his reply.

_Yes._

Months had passed by, and yet they still wrote each other. The couple didn't let it rule their lives, but they kept up the promises. Jack sometimes foretelling the future, and warning Kate what to stay away from, and Kate writing him about everyday island stuff.

If this had ever happened with someone else they knew, they both would shake off the feeling, and stop writing. But it didn't happen to someone else they knew, it happened to them.

And they both wanted to keep hold to the thought that it was really the other writing back. And thus they did.

One day, Kate got adventurous, and wrote him something she'd been thinking about for a while.

_Jack, did you and I ever end up together after we got rescued?  
__-Kate_

It took a moment for him to respond.

_At the beginning, yes.  
__-Jack_

Kate was baffled.

_What do you mean by 'at the beginning?'.  
__-Kate_

_I mean, we got together, yes, but then something happened, and we were torn apart.  
__-Jack_

Kate bit her lip.

_Oh… Do I ever write you?(Other than this whole screwed up thing.)  
__-Kate_

_No.  
__-Jack_

_Do I ever see you?  
__-Kate_

_No.  
__-Jack_

_…But why? Did I go to prison? They still have visitation stuff, there! Why don't you visit me?  
__-Kate_

Kate was mad now. He could have easily visited her! What happened that was so bad that they never wanted to see each other?

_I can't, Kate.  
__-Jack_

_Why?  
__-Kate_

_You died.  
__-Jack_

* * *

_A/N: Oh gee, what a way to put it so bluntly, Jack.-le sigh- Don't worry, folks, I'm on it. Next chapter hopefully up tomorrow. I know I'll be writing it tonight, plus hopefully a few others._


	3. I'll Kiss You If You Tell Me

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait to update, it's been a hectic week. But I did get my iPod, and I did name it Cristina (because I have this really abnormal obsession with Grey's Anatomy). But anyways, let's get onto the chapter before this turns into some huge A/N._

_Oh yeah, and if you want to know, though I doubt you do, I was listening to Suzanne Vega's CD, called 'Songs in Red and Gray', and Norah Jones' album, named 'Come Away With Me'._

_Oh yeah, did I mention my mom took away my computer, and I'm sneaking on right now to write/post this? I must really love you guys._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Lost. Don't own the Lake House. Pity, why don't you smash _all_ my dreams? Oh wait, too late.

The Letters

Jack felt horrible for putting it so bluntly, but it was how he worked. When people thought of the words 'cause and effect', they usually think of the effect part, more then the cause part. With Jack, it was the other way around.

He heard the little pop and the rustle of paper, and without another thought, stuck his hand in to retrieve the letter.

_…I what? I didn't die. I can't die. I don't want to.  
__-Kate_

Laughing slightly, his almost odd sense of humor showing, he wrote down his response and put it back in.

_Yeah, well… I didn't mean to say it like that… But yeah, you did die, Kate.  
__-Jack_

Jack wanted to also write how it ripped his heart apart, but then he remembered that this was pre-his relationship with her. Funny how you don't miss things until they're gone.

_How?  
__-Kate_

_I'm not telling.  
__-Jack_

_Tell me.  
__-Kate_

_No.  
__-Jack_

_I'll kiss you if you tell me.  
__-Kate_

_We've already kissed. Besides, you wouldn't technically be kissing me… You'd kiss me six years ago.  
__-Jack_

_So? Doesn't hurt.  
__-Kate_

Jack suddenly felt a new memory come to mind, one of surprise and enjoyment. He could remember it vividly, almost like it was just a minute ago. He had been leaning back in the chair, closing his eyes and trying to relax while also tapping his foot against the floor to an unheard melody. He hadn't heard Kate enter, but only felt her lips lightly touch his, and a whisper of "Tell me, Jack." reached his ears.

It brought tears to his eyes, his feet almost buckling out from underneath him. Short of breath, he quickly wrote down a few words and slammed the mailbox shut.

_I need to think about this, Kate. It might only not hurt just me to relive it, but it could also hurt you to know. I don't want to screw this up. Give me time.  
__-Jack_

He hadn't expected to be so caught off guard by this whole thing, and he berated himself for getting teary over a memory. His father would have only laughed. And frankly, Jack was sick of hearing that cruel laughter.

What should he do? The thought ran through his head over and over again. Tell the truth and draw a tear, or tell a lie and draw a smile?

After he got home from work that day, he sat down at his desk, and started what would be a long and winding letter, explaining horrible, yet truthful, things. He was going to give her what she asked for.

_Dear Kate,_

_I've thought long and hard what you've asked of me, and I've decided that if you really wanted to know, then who am I to stop you? Apparently, if I was given access to you again, then that means that hopefully something good is meant to happen from this._

_I suppose I'll start from the beginning. Skip what you don't want to know, but remember, I'm not writing about another person, this is you and your future we're talking about here._

_The fateful day was July 21st, 2011. (I know, what a corny way to start off a story, but you must admit, it's fitting). It was pouring rain, almost as bad as those Island storm we got (or still get, in your case), and I had already left for work for an emergency surgery. I told you to meet me for lunch in the hospital cafeteria, kissed you, and left, you still lying sleepily in bed. _

_You never showed up. I didn't really think anything of it, maybe thinking you had been caught up somewhere else. I just left a message on your cell, and went back to work. A while later, they paged me to go to my office, that I had a phone call waiting for me._

_I still thought everything was fine because I had been expecting a call from another Chief of Surgery at the hospital in the next city over._

_Instead, I was met with a police officer's voice, starting the sentence, "We're so sorry to inform you, Doctor Shepard…"_

_I knew what it was about then. I knew something had happened, only because I've made quite a few of those calls in my life to dying patients' family members._

_You had died, Kate. You were on the highway, in your little Saturn, and somehow your steering shaft had shattered, sending you into six lanes of oncoming traffic. They told me how you had passed away in the ambulance just as they were pulling up at the emergency room at the hospital._

_I immediately went down to the hospital morgue, and there you were, with a white sheet laid gracefully over your body. A chart lay abandoned on the table, only written in the box that read 'Time of Death'. 11:09am. _

_I never have quite gotten over that feeling that was in my gut that day, a feeling of extreme upset. If you had of been there to see it, I'm pretty sure you would've been proud of me for finally expressing everything. But if you were there, I wouldn't have been there in the first place._

_Anyways, that's the story…_

_Always yours,  
__Jack_

Jack sighed and read over his work, almost surprised at how calm and relieved he felt now that it was out on paper. It was almost like he had put part of himself in the letter. The part that had hurt him the most.

He stuck it in the postbox, expecting to get a reply back within a worthy amount of time. He never did. He had heard the letter disappear as she must of taken it out on the other side, and sat down beside the mailbox. He waited there all night, ignoring pager calls and the constant ringing of his cell phone. In the morning, still nothing.

He made his daily commute to work, rushing home to check his mail, positive that she would've responded by then.

When he found nothing, he added to the pile of post-it's growing inside his mailbox. All had gone unanswered. Sighing, he quietly shut the door, and headed inside his apartment.

For almost a year and a half, nothing had appeared in the mailbox. He still left the post-it's in it, a stubborn streak of not giving up ran in him.

One day, as he was walking through the entrance of his apartment, haven't even bothered to check the mail for her response, he heard the sound he had almost forgotten.

He reluctantly opened the box, onlyto find a single post-it.

_I love you, Jack. Always have, always will. Never forget that. Never.

* * *

_

A/N: Aww... Now we know what's happened... How's it all going to play out? 


	4. Actually That's What I Was Calling About

_A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out. A lot of merde has been happening, and I've had no time to write whatsoever… But now I've been sick for the last past two days, and things aren't getting any better._

_**Dedicated**  
to mikachoo, who helped me get out of my writer's block. I thought everyone had forgotten this by now.  
To the song 'Colors' by Hikaru Utada; to the song 'Speeding Cars' and 'The Walk' by Imogen Heap; to the song 'On The Radio' by Regina Spektor; All of which I listened to incessantly while writing this chapter._

_Remember, they had talked for a lot of months, (I'm making it nine), plus a year and half has passed. So technically, when you add everything up, it should be somewhere in the vicinity of December 2014._

_**CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88: **That was my favorite part, too! That, and the ending, where she was like "You waited." And the part where he makes reservations for two years in advanced, and the hostess looks at him, and you can just tell she's thinking "What're you on?"_

**Disclaimer:** Since I'm not really a fan of people going "OMGZ, YOU FORGOT TO PUT A DIZCLAIMER IN YOR STORY! THEIR GOING TO SUE YOU!111!1" on their reviews, I guess I'll have to say that I don't own Lost. Or the Lake House.

The Letters

**December 2014**

The cold wind bit at his scarf as Jack made his way down the icy street, a cup of coffee frozen to his gloved hand. Cars slowly made their way through the mush, the drivers inside cursing the city's snow plows.

His mind was racing, wondering when Kate's next letter would come. It had been two years since they had started writing each other, a year and half since Kate found out how she was going to die. She had vowed to live each day to the fullest. More and more memories of them spending time together came to his mind, and he only wished he could've witnessed them the first time.

So while she was climbing a mango tree back on the Island, he was walking down a Boston street wondering what to get her for Christmas.

He knew it had to be something special, and he knew it had to be something unique. Not just the mandatory card and the standard stuffed animal with chocolate. Although she might enjoy the chocolate.

It was December 23rd, and he had always had problems before with the picking of gifts. Window shopping was not his favorite hobby, and signing a bill for a gigantic amount of money wasn't either.

He knew what he wanted to get her; but he wasn't sure if she would go for it or not.

About a week before hand, she had written him a note as he left for work. He was sure it was meant as a joke, but it still confused him.

_I think I'll go anti-love. I mean, butterflies in the stomach and hearts skipping beats? That can't be good._

Jack knew that it was hard, them being six years apart. As weird as that sounded, he had come to terms with it. The tables Locke had set down – "You're a man of science, Jack. I'm a man of faith." – had turned. No one knew yet, about the letters. It was their secret, Kate's and his.

And it was time for that secret to come out. It had been two years. He needed to tell someone, to make sure this wasn't some weird thing.

He took his cordless phone into his office, and shut the door, even though Jack was alone in the apartment.

He dialed the familiar numbers, and waiting for the call to transition.

It rang. Once. Twice. Someone picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" A sleepy, yet unmistakable voice of Charlie Pace resided on the other end.

"Hey, Charlie. Did I catch you at a bad time?" Jack asked.

"No, mate. 'S fine. I was just catching up on some missed sleep. It's been insane, with the new baby and all." A pang of jealously went though Jack. Why did Charlie have the perfect life, with the perfect wife, and the perfect two kids? Why not him? "How's life been? Find any new girls lately?" Charlie touched on the painful subject.

"...Actually, that's what I was calling about…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fourteen hours later, the Paces were on the Shepard doorstep.

"Hey… We came to spend Christmas with you…" Claire smiled. They knew it'd be hard this year. It was hard for the medical doctor every year. Winter was Kate's favorite time of year. It was the season where Jack had asked her to be his wife, and the season when their wedding was supposed to be.

"Thanks, guys." He opened the door further. "Come on in."

--------------------------------------

_A/N: Next chapter, Charlie gets to see all the letters from the last past two years. Except for the ones meant for Jack's eyes only. ;D_

_Also, what madness ensues from the Paces spending Christmas with him? Some, at least. And Jack gets a whiff what it would be like to have kids around… And more letters from Kate. A LOT MORE!  
_

_Next chapter up as soon as possible. Sorry for the short one this time. I just wanted to let you guys know I hadn't forgotten about this._

_Oh yeah, any thoughts on what Jack can get Kate for Christmas?  
_


End file.
